


Finders Keepers

by Strawberry_Sweetheart



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Cupids, Fluff, He pins hard, M/M, Soft Billy Hargrove, Valentine's Day, this is pure tooth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:07:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strawberry_Sweetheart/pseuds/Strawberry_Sweetheart
Summary: In his lap, cupped hands are clasped to keep the tiny little thing inside the hollow nook he’s created with his fingers.The little monster flutters and tickles his palms with its feathered wings.Billy holds his hands to his chest for a moment, gives his heart some time to stop it’s rapid beating, and leans his head against the wall, staring at that dotted popcorn ceiling. It takes a while but finally the frantic flutters still inside his palms. Carefully, so very carefully to avoid having him give chase once more to the tiny terror, Billy moves his thumbs to the side just enough, barely the space of a keyhole, to have a peek inside.---orBilly is crushing so hard that nothing short of a Cupid will get him to confess
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 18
Kudos: 217





	Finders Keepers

Billy’s room is a mess with over turned furniture and clothes sprung about. The shelves of his bookcase have fallen and books are scattered, the covers marked with his footprints when he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to where he stepped. The lamp has toppled on its side over onto his bed and the carpet soaks up the liquid from a broken cologne bottle that he knocked over in his haste. For all that his life is shit and loves to be a pain in his ass, he’s thankful that his dad wasn’t home to hear the racket; he prefers when Billy stays out of sight out of mind. Billy prefers it, too.

He’s sitting with his legs crossed on the floor, breathing heavily from exhaustion, lungs filling with the potent scent of bottled musk that has started to take over the room. In his lap, cupped hands are clasped to keep the tiny little thing inside the hollow nook he’s created with his fingers. 

The little monster flutters and tickles his palms with its feathered wings. 

Billy holds his hands to his chest for a moment, gives his heart some time to stop it’s rapid beating, and leans his head against the wall, staring at that dotted popcorn ceiling. It takes a while but finally the frantic flutters still inside his palms. Carefully, so very carefully to avoid having him give chase once more to the tiny terror, Billy moves his thumbs to the side just enough, barely the space of a keyhole, to have a peek inside. The creature has settled into a curled ball of white fluff, looks to be snoozing as if it has any right to be the one tuckered out after making Billy look like a fool, destroying his room in a wild goose chase. He watched the slight rise and fall of tiny wings, they were no more than the size of his finger, as it breathes peacefully in its slumber. It looks like a cross between a bunny and a kitten, but smaller, completely white with tiny needles like claws extruding from the pink pads of its paws, digging into his skin, and round ears at the top that look like nothing more but fluff.

Billy picks himself off the floor, gentle like to avoid jostling the… thing, and plops it into his sock drawer, trapping it inside. He takes one good look at the room, at the rod of his curtains that somehow ended up across the room, and begins the long process of cleaning before his dad gets home. 

The thing is, Billy has no one to blame but himself. Himself and Steve fucking Harrington. He’s watched for months as a tiny white cocoon hung from the corner ceiling and began to grow — a threat more than anything — warning him that if he doesn’t do something about _it_ then _it_ will make sure the job is done. ‘It’, of course, being the tiny little Cupid bug that, with all the will and stubbornness that its tiny little body could harness, had tried to escape the closed confines of his room to seek out his heart. Stubborn and an asshole, he repeats to himself, wonder who he could possibly get that from. It’s a slap in the face, knowing that this Cupid he’s brought into the world is _his_ and there is no denying that it isn’t. There is no denying how lovesick he is, that his pining managed to create a Cupid that promises to terrorize him until he confesses. Like a blushing school girl. 

No. Try as it might, Billy has no plans of ever doing that. This thing can’t possibly expect him to walk up to the straightest guy he’s ever crushed on and be like, “Hey Harrington, I spent the entire time since I moved here jacking off to the thought of sucking your dick. Wanna catch a movie sometime?”

At night, when the summer heat sticks to his skin in such a suffocating manner that sleep doesn’t come as easily, Billy lets his mind drift. It’s safe to let it wander when the rest of the world is asleep. He’s memorized the slope of a pale dotted back that trails down as it narrows and leads to the lines of long legs, memorized the ruby red of sun kissed shoulders and cheeks. All he’s ever wanted is to be looked at by those eyes, large and warm, and be able to trail his fingers through the soft strands of brown locks, to pull at it and bring those lips closer to his own. The worst part is that somewhere along the way, it stopped being just lust. 

He doesn’t know what's worse: telling Harrington that he’s thought about having his dick up his ass, or telling him that he wants to hold his hand and all that gross shit. 

Because Harrington shows up to the pool without fail, sometimes in his uniform dropping off his gaggle of kids, sometimes in short swimming trunks only to just dip his feet in the water, and Billy just watches him. Steve always dips his toe first before submerging his legs, he likes to kick and splash at the water, occasionally hitting the large plastic beach ball when the kids throw it his way. Sometimes it seems like he’s in deep thought and the ball hits him square in the face. He always hears Billy laugh, flips him off even as he laughs too.

Because Harrington struggles to say no to the kids, Billy thinks his entire paycheck must be spent on giving the kids quarters for ice pops and arcade games. A quarter a pop may not seem like much but with six kids, nickels and dimes can start to add up. After the third time on the hottest day that Max and her nerd group ask Steve for quarter for more ice cream, he takes pity on him. Snaps at Max to stop draining other people’s wallets while he fishes out loose change from his pocket. He suggested that Steve start bringing a bag or cooler with snacks for the kids if he’s gonna be playing babysitter. Steve starts to bring this obnoxiously bright beach bag lined with foil to keep the drinks cold. Billy tried not to feel pleased.

Because Harrington managed to form some type of relationship with his ex and new boyfriend, seems to be perfectly okay with it, sitting with them under those multi-colored bleach umbrellas perfectly content. Billy always wonders what they could possibly be talking about, how someone can look at the person they loved walk away and still build something out of broken pieces they left behind. 

Because Harrington sometimes catches him looking and raises his hand in a tiny awkward wave and smiles like Billy didn’t spend all of highschool pulling his pig tails. He offers Billy a coke and stands by the lifeguard chair because he somehow knows when Billy is dying from boredom and he’s offering him a distraction until his shift is over. He gets pissed when Billy keeps calling him ‘Harrington’, says, “you know I have a perfectly good first name, right?” 

Because _Steve_ sometimes seeks him out during his break and rambles about nothing like Billy could possibly pay attention to a word that’s coming out of his mouth when he is standing so close that Billy can smell the banana scented sunscreen on his skin— 

Next to his bed his sock drawer rattles and Billy slams a fist on the wood until it stops. 

\----

Billy’s alarm doesn’t ring the next morning. It must have been pulled from the socket yesterday during The Great Chase and now Billy has to haul ass if he doesn't want to be late. He scrambles out of bed pulling on some clothes and locates his duffle bag containing his uniform, looks under his bed for shoes and almost puts them on without remembering to grab socks. He pulls a pair from the drawer, his mind too scattered to remember the sleeping Cupid he locked away the day before. Too scattered mind to notice it flutter out of the open drawer and into a duffle bag has he hopped on one foot, pulling on his socks.

The pool is packed as it usually is on the weekends. He’s changed into his uniform, looking around the pool bored out of his mind, almost hoping that some idiot drowns just so he has something to do, when the entrance gate creaks open and in comes Snow White with his little dwarfs. Behind Steve and the kids he spots Nancy, Johnathan, and some new girl he’s seen before in school. But his eyes aren’t on the girl or how chummy she seems to be with Harrington. His eyes on the white ball of cotton that shoots out from God knows where like a bat out of hell (or maybe more accurately like a moth to a flame) only for it to land on the front of Steve’s tank top, digging its tiny claws in the white cotton for purchase and producing a startled shriek from the boy. 

The tiny monster gives a chirp and Billy feels his heart fall out of his ass. 

Steve drops his beach bag with a clatter of what must be soda cans, and reaches for the tiny Cupid. Billy watches Steve wrap his hands around the tiny terror, long fingers overlapping on its tiny form as he tries to pry it off his shirt. The stupid thing wiggles its bunny-like cotton tail like a happy puppy, wings flapping in excitment, as its lifted up to Steve’s confused face. He feels himself flush, cheeks filling with warmth that’s more than just from the sun, when Steve smiles this soft quiet thing and pets his fingers through the white fur. And then he feels panic when Steve’s curious gaze turns to search who it could possibly be from.

Billy looks away.

They sit close to Billy’s chair, Steve and the girl, and he’s forced to catch snippets of conversation, enough to find out that the girl’s name is ‘Robin’ and she makes him laugh and she whispers things in ear that make him blush and Billy feels something nasty bubbling in his stomach watching them lean so comfortably against each other and....

And Billy’s stupid Cupid is perched on Steve’s bended knee, looking up at Billy with big purple eyes. It’s pink tongue is peaking out of his mouth like a cat and it looks innocent enough but to Billy it might as well have been flipping him off. He narrows his eyes at it. 

“... What about Tammy Thompson? You said so yourself, she has this major crush on me.” Steve runs a finger down the nose of the Cupid, boops it on the nose and Billy hates how pleased the thing looks.

“Tammy Thompson isn’t even here, dingus. It obviously belongs to someone here, in this pool, right now. Try again.” Robin says this to Steve, a bit exasperated with how dense he can be. 

Billy gets it. Steve had the habit of missing things that are right in front of him. They used to have english together, Billy remembers as he watches Steve sip from his coke, they used to be paired up constantly for group assignments. Their assigned seats were next to each other, given the alphabetical order of their names, and Billy looked forward to every class. Steve would always scoot his desk over like sitting next to each other wasn’t close enough, going as far to lean into his space to look at his book because Steve always forgot his own. He’d ask him to explain the significance of colors or symbolism in the chapters they had to analyze and Billy liked the excuse he had to lean into Steve’s space too. It was a sweet form of torture, like the way that too much of a good thing could still make you sick, and Billy was heartsick from it.

Robin leaned in again, cupped a hand over her mouth as she whispered into Steve’s ear, looking directly as Billy as she did so. Steve’s brows furrowed together and sucked at his bottom lip the way he does when he’s working through a problem or doesn’t understand a lecture. Billy was seen so many pencils scarred from Steve’s teeth, the ends of them chewed up and shiny from spit. It should have been gross if Billy wasn’t fixated on Steve’s lips all the time. The Cupid lets out a trill, chirping at whatever Robin has said and he’s grateful when he feels a tap on his shoulder, giving him an excuse to escape. 

He blows on his whistle as he switches places with Heather, resists the urge to look back when he feels eyes on his back. Billy is changing into his regular clothes when the door to the locker room opens. He hears Steve call his name in a quiet unsure voice and Billy mentally curses himself, practically slamming his locker shut and snapping out a quick “what do you want?” He’s not in the mood to talk to him, not when he has Billy’s Cupid cupped in his hands like it’s something precious. Not when Robin had looked at him with that knowing glint in her eye as she whispered her secrets to Steve.

Steve holds the tiny thing up and brings it closer to himself like he’s seeking comfort from it, holds it right under his chin and lets the little monster lick at his face like a house pet. He doesn’t meet Billy’s eyes and Billy thinks that's a shame, he wants to lay himself bare under his gaze. 

Steve adjusts the beach bag over his shoulder and finally looks up at him. “Hi?” His smile seems forced, awkward, with clenched teeth like he doesn’t know what to do with his face. God, he looks so uncomfortable. It's not a good sign, he thinks. Steve is probably thinking about the best way to reject him. Billy should have squashed the stupid Cupid in his hands when he had the chance.

“Is, um,” Steve extends the Cupid out towards Billy, the thing still has its tongue out at him, looking far too smug, “Is he yours?”

“No,” he deadpans and ignores the beating of his heart, “Never seen that thing before in my life.”

Billy’s Cupid huffs angrily in Steve’s hands, but it sounds more like a sneeze. It’s wings are extended out and the feathers are fluffed up like it’s trying to make itself look bigger, trying to intimidate Billy and call him out on his bullshit.

Steve pulls back the Cupid and his face falls. It makes Billy’s heart skip a beat and dare to hope. “Oh, um, this is gonna be awkward then. Nevermind —” 

Billy doesn’t have enough time to register what’s happening when a white ball of cotton fluff flies out of Steve’s bag, nothing but a streak of white in the air, barrelling towards Billy. He sticks his hand out without thinking and catches it like an airborne baseball. Steve looks horrified. He looks down at the Cupid in his hands, does a double take when he sees his own still cuddling up to Steve. This one isn’t his. He takes another look. This one has pink eyes instead of purple, a tiny bit smaller than his own, maybe it's just not as fluffy, but it's kneading the palm of his hand with eyes closed in bliss, content just to lay there. It’s cute, kind of, nothing like the little terror Billy calls his own. He doesn’t even mind the tiny claws that dig into his hand as it kneads.

When he looks up again, Steve is standing in front of him. His shoulders are a bit less tense and he’s biting his bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth. And Billy wants this, he wants this so bad. 

“I'm guessing this yours?”

“No, never seen it before in my life.” Steve’s face is stoic and Billy cringes, realizes what an asshole move that was. 

“I may have…” _Lied_ he tries to say, but Steve’s face is scrunching up as he bends over slightly to laugh, his forehead knocking against Billy’s chin. 

“Yeah, no kidding.” His laughter dies down and he rubs the tiny fluffs of ears of the Cupid he’s holding and Billy is almost embarrassed when the asshole purrs to Steve touch. “I… Are you going to want him back?” It’s muted, Steve’s voice, and Billy can see his hand curl into a hold that's a bit more secure around Billy’s Cupid. Billy would have to be a fool to take it back. 

He touches the wings of Steve’s own Cupid, they’re smooth and feel like silk under his palms. It occurs to him that he’s holding Steve’s heart in his hands and he’s never felt lighter. With his free hand he cups Steve’s jaw, those brown eyes locked onto his like they’ve never been before, and he leans in. 

Steve tastes like sunscreen and sweet pop. There is a hand tugging at his belt loops, inviting him closer, and Billy takes the opportunity to press himself as close as he can. Steve sighs in content when he pulls away and Billy can’t believe he can have this. How could Steve ever think that he’d take his Cupid back. If not for being head over heels for Steve, there’s no way he’s taking back the little devil. He’d rather keep Steve’s Cupid, one who looks like it might not set the house on fire.

“Finders keepers,” He says and steals another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is  
> originally this idea of feelings manifesting into actual creatures was supposed to be billy and his manifestation of his anger but like... its valentines day so... but ill probably still write my original concept let me know if that's something that interests you 
> 
> my tumblr is @ billy-baby 
> 
> also tag your self im Billy's cupid ready to fight his ass when he lied to steve


End file.
